


A Place to Rest - Epilogue

by rubycrowned



Series: A Place to Rest [9]
Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, i can't believe its over, what am i going to do now jesus, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycrowned/pseuds/rubycrowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know where your love is? Do you think that you lost it? You felt it so strong, but nothing's turned out how you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Rest - Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> ACTUALLY THE END THIS TIME GUYS. This was supposed to be up days ago but the badlands of no wi-fi stopped me posting sooner :( Ready now though so all is well <3 Unbeta'd again (I'm getting real bad at this oops) and I'm going to bring us full circle to name the song for this chap as 'Say (All I Need)' by OneRepublic - the namesake song for this fic for those of you that didn't know/remember.

It’s that enveloping sort of cosy beneath the sheets of their bed, the sort that feels like a hug. Liam doesn’t really want to think about moving right now, possibly ever. He can feel extra warmth radiating from Zayn’s still-sleeping body only a few inches away; Liam doesn’t have to roll over to be able to picture the sight of him sprawled out on his side, in a loose foetal position which somehow always manages to dominate the mattress by morning. His feet will be nearly brushing Liam’s calves while a hand will lie close enough to his shoulder blade that it tickles Liam slightly every time Zayn takes a particularly deep inhale; and yet his arse will still manage to be almost hanging off the other edge of the bed.

It was this time of day – mid-morning on a weekend, the time when Ana watches cartoons downstairs (not yet bored enough to demand their attention) and soft light filters through the curtains to ever so slowly wake them – that Liam loves most, and he would usually let it linger as long as possible.

Today, however, they have to make a move.

Liam curls around to face Zayn, carefully so as not to inadvertently crush any fingers, and presses a kiss to his cheekbone, ghosting a hand over his ribs. His arse burns a little as he rolls onto it (and then more quickly over onto his side), a reminder of their, uh, enthusiastic celebrations of the night before; it was something which didn’t happen very often, not enough for Liam to get used to the morning-after sensation, but it sparked enough pleasurable memories of the dark hours that he could only further regret the need to get out of bed.  Liam probably should have thought this through a little better, considering the day ahead of them, but Zayn’s insistent mouth and eyes gazing at him through ridiculous lashes was never something Liam could quite figure out how to say no to – to remember why ‘no’ would ever be part of his vocabulary.

Zayn whines and tries to shuffle away from the tickling, eyes still closed, until they jolt open as his whole body jumps; he must have been closer to the edge than he’d thought, Liam thinks, smirking, and nearly falling out of bed is always a more effective wake-up than morning-breath kisses, especially when Liam knew there wasn’t time for a lazy hand job to coax him into consciousness.

“C’mon babe, time to get up. I’m going to go down and make something for Ana’s breakfast in case Lou and Harry ‘ve already finished with theirs when we get there.”

“But Liiiiiiiiii. It’s still so early,” Zayn’s voice is muffled by the pillow he’d scrunched his face into, still in denial of his current state of wakefulness, “Just because you’re old now doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”

Liam swings his legs out of bed, followed by the rest of him as he tosses the covers back, resisting the urge to snuggle back into Zayn’s side when the cool air hits his skin.

“Never. After all, if I’m old then you must be practically ancient,” He pulls on the pajama pants lying on the floor and leans back over to kiss the back of Zayn’s neck – close to the only part of him exposed – while he tugs his t-shirt from underneath Zayn’s pillow. “Now please get through the shower and chuck anything you need into the bag by the wardrobe; I’ll grab our toothbrushes and things just before we leave. Do you want me to make you anything?”

“Omelette,” comes the short reply, and Zayn wriggles impossibly further beneath the covers while Liam shakes his head and wonders how he wound up with such a big lump of a child to spend his life with. Luckily, he hears the unspoken  _thank you, Li - love you_ ; it’s somewhere between the sleepy creases of Zayn’s forehead and the soft rustle of blankets being begrudgingly pushed back as Liam leaves the room.

Zayn’s voice floats out to him as he reaches the top of the stairs, “I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry; we’re not due at your Mum and Dad’s ‘til dinner. Besides, it’s  _Harry and Lou_ , you’ll be lucky if anyone other than Maddie is even awake when we get there.”

***

Looking around their lounge the night before, the realisation had struck Liam. That  _this_ , this was what happiness felt like.

Surrounded by their family – including those they were lucky enough to choose, and who had stuck by through everything – and with Zayn standing solidly at his side while Anastasia tore around the house, ‘looking after’ the younger kids with all the responsibility an eight-year-old can muster, Liam wondered how it could have snuck up on him so completely without his noticing.

Niall and Sam were sitting on the opposite couch, Niall’s arm slung affectionately around his wife’s shoulder, toying absently with a lock of hair as he interrupted one of Louis’ stories because  _it’s not exactly impressive since Paul always knew when you and Harry were sneaking off to shag, you twat._  Sammi, in turn, whacked Niall’s leg sharply – a reminder to  _watch your bloody language in front of the kids_  accompanying it, which quickly dissolved them both into huge grins and stifled laughter; Sam’s clutch on her heavily pregnant belly only added to the effect.

Their two boys, Ben and Caleb, raised their heads briefly at the sound of their parents, but, having seen what was a pretty usual commotion in their household, soon returned to whatever game Ana had set up for them over by the toy corner. The four-turning-five-year-old twins were about as laidback as their mum and dad were, although maintaining a mischief streak as wide as their grins, identical to not only the other’s but also Niall’s own sunshine smile. Some days, Liam would think he could happily just sit and bask in the warmth that radiated from the Horan family.

The Irish couple had announced their engagement at Christmas dinner the same year that Zayn and Liam had gotten together, and the news that they were expecting followed not too many months later. Rather than push through the plans they already had organised, Sammi convinced Niall to opt for a long engagement, putting the wedding on hold until they had welcomed their dark-haired boys into the world (Liam still forgot sometimes that his friend wouldn’t pass on his blonde locks, it seemed so ingrained into his personality that it was odd to consider him otherwise). When they did make it to the altar, the two-year-old lads also made their way up the aisle, clinging trustfully to Zayn’s fingers, to bring their parents a matching gold band each.

Liam watched as Ana – having left the boys to it – carefully teaching young Maddie how to stack up the tallest of towers, methodically working from largest to smallest blocks; advice which was largely being ignored by the three-year-old toddler, who was the newest recruit to their close-knit One Direction family (Liam has to wonder if that will ever stop being his key identifier for them).

After a few years of decently successful touring and two albums later (plus the third put together out of various live shows from before they became famous), The Game had started to come to a natural halt; Harry’s music had matured, but so had he. By the time he turned twenty eight, he had ended his second band much the same way it had begun – amicably and without much fuss – and had, along with Louis, started down the path for something bigger than anything else he had already taken on; parenthood.

None of them really knew how difficult it would be for Harry and Louis to adopt a child (it was one thing they were both set on – there were already enough children in the world that needed love and care; they didn’t need to go down the surrogate route), but they were all convinced it would be much harder than it turned out to be. Liam remembered quite a number of appointments for interviews and evaluations, inspections and character references, but he could have sworn it was barely a year before they were bringing home a thirty-month-old baby girl to meet their Uncles Zayn and Liam. He didn’t know anything about her birth family, and didn’t care to ask; he simply knew that it was all carried out right here in London and that Maddie had turned from shy and slightly hesitant, to a bubbly character in the months that followed; one who wasn’t afraid to flash an attitude befitting of her fiery red locks when her fathers weren’t paying her what she deemed to be satisfactory attention. Zayn had joked to Liam once that he had never seen Louis as cowed by anyone as by a single unimpressed look from his daughter.

“Dad-dyyyyyyyy.”

“A-naaaaaaaaaa.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes at her father in the way only girls seem able to do at Liam’s response, although the impact was lessened somewhat by her simultaneous giggles.

“Dad,  _please_  can I take Maddie to my room and show her my xylophone Nana got me?”

The way that Ana’s out of control mane of curls flopped in front of her face as she bounced up and down in front of him was so familiar that Liam had to pause for a second. As she grew up, Ana was becoming more and more like her mother, and sometimes she would do something and it would still take Liam’s breath away. The wound which was Danielle’s death was still an ever present part of Liam’s life, but over time it had healed; it had stabilised from lethal, to debilitating, to what had lately become a silvery scarred ridge on his heart – permanent but more a reminder now of what had been rather than an oozing gash which caused him physical pain.

“Course you can sweetpea, but make sure you don’t let her be too rough with it, love; Nana would hate it if it broke. And we’re going to be having cake soon, okay, so listen out in case we call you.”

“Thanks, Dad!” A rushed kiss was pressed sloppily to Liam’s cheek as Ana rushed out of the room, calling excitedly to Maddie from the hallway to hurry up already. Liam turned his head back to the conversation only to catch smiling eyes staring back at him.

As always, Zayn was sat next to Liam as an unwavering presence.

It wasn’t how he thought his thirtieth birthday would be but, somewhere along the way, Liam had finally given up on the smoke-like remnants of his old dream, of how he was sure his life would, should, be. It had been a nice dream, a good dream, but now Liam could see the faults in its fabric; the fading light and holes torn from the centre, leaving it ragged. He could see through it to the brightness, the bold lines of something more; not necessarily something better, but something strong and true and real, that had been waiting patiently for Liam to take it by the hand.

Liam was living his new dream.

***

They pull up outside Lou and Harry’s place and Zayn reaches over Liam’s arms to honk the horn long and loud, before turning in the passenger seat to face Ana, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Make sure you take good care of Haz and Louis, okay?” Zayn holds the back of her head still as he scatters kisses over her forehead and cheeks, “You know how they get after too much sugar, love.”

Ana giggles and nods, pressing her own noisy kiss to the tip of Zayn’s nose.

“Bye, Zad.”

Liam’s can’t help smiling a little on hearing Ana’s silly little pet name for Zayn, even years after first hearing the smushed up title. It isn’t quite Dad, and for that he’s grateful; he’s pretty sure that would have been far too confusing for all parties involved in any case – and also because Danielle was and always will be Ana’s Mum, whether Ana remembers her or not (and increasingly it seems to be leaning towards not, a fact which sends Liam’s scar twinging in his chest). As little sense as it might make, there is a tiny part of Liam that continues to fear that that would no longer be true if Zayn was officially referred to as her ‘other’ father – even if he has been more or less exactly that for over half a decade now, for most of her life. But Zayn is something special in her life too; a permanent fixture, no matter what happens. Especially since January, when, as a birthday gift to Zayn, all three members of their little family decided it was time for him to officially adopt Anastasia to be her second legal guardian; her Zad.

Liam spies a sleep-rumpled Harry standing just outside the doorway, bare feet curled against the cold ground of the entrance, waving a weak salute to him.

He turns back to his daughter. “Bye, sweetie. Do as your uncles-” Liam’s cut off by a smacking kiss to his lips from Ana, who just as quickly bounces back and starts opening her door, tugging her weekend bag out behind her, muttering  _yeah yeah, I_ know,  _Dad_.

“Please do as your uncles tell you, and Harry will take you to school Monday morning, yeah? We’ll be back in the afternoon to pick you up at the gates,  _hey_ , don’t forget your schoolbag!”

“ _Yes,_  Dad,” Anastasia leans back through the open window to loop her arms briefly around Liam’s neck in a hug, “Love you.”

And then she’s running up the steps to give Harry a hug and call through the door for Maddie and Lou.

Harry gives Liam a grin and Louis pops his head out the side of the doorframe to wave out at them.

“Have a good one boys! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and I’ll promise not to corrupt this sweet young thing against you too much,” he hollers out towards the car.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Liam retorts, restarting the vehicle.

Zayn waves back at the shrinking figures out the rear window as Liam pulls off the curb and turns in the direction of the motorway.

Once they’re well into their drive, companionable silence settled over them, Zayn quietly entangles their fingers over the gearstick. The touch of Zayn’s skin is familiar; the varying smoothness as Liam’s fingers brush the pads of each finger down to knuckles and across to follow the lines of Zayn’s palm; each bone and indent carefully memorised over the years. Liam traces the region around Zayn’s right ring finger where he knows he is rubbing over a black mark, forever stained into Zayn’s skin.

Liam and Zayn had never gotten married in the five years they had been together, probably never would; Liam had already been there, done that, suffered the consequences that weren’t really consequences at all but would ever be linked in his mind regardless. And Zayn being Zayn understood that, never really felt the need to define their relationship anyway – they were together, they loved each other, and that would always be enough for him.

Despite that, Zayn still wanted to have proof – to himself if no one else (but also to Liam, even though he was the one person who could never doubt it) – of the commitment between them. Liam knew that there were a myriad of Zayn’s tattoos dedicated in some form or another to him, varying in size, subtlety and meaning, but all present and accounted for in the tangled web of tattoos which had spread over the years to cover a large portion of Zayn’s arms and torso. They all meant something important to him, even if they didn’t look it, or if Liam didn’t know exactly what that meaning was (Liam isn’t sure he’ll ever truly know everything there is to know about him; not because he’s the mystery wrapped in an enigma that he was always portrayed as, but because Liam is always finding sparkling new facets that he has somehow passed over). His parents, sisters,  and his experiences on the road. Lessons learned and memories not to be forgotten. The boys. Liam. Ana. All were etched into his skin time and time again.

And out of all of them, this tattoo is Liam’s favourite, as biased as he may be.

At a glance, it looks like a simple black band. From most angles, especially in the occasional pap photos still taken of them, it certainly did look like nothing more than a ring. At most, there might be the slightest hint of smudging of the line between his fingers. But on closer examination, you can see that it’s much more intricate than that.

The ‘smudging’ sometimes seen between Zayn’s ring and middle finger is actually a very deliberate zig-zag in the design; a heartbeat. Or, as Zayn had explained to him, whispered in the intimate darkness of their bed on the night he’d first shown Liam – their third anniversary – it was  _the sound of home_.

And on the exact opposite side of the tattoo (noticed even less often) were the tiniest of letters breaking the continuity of solid colour, stating the most simple of messages. One which Liam himself has had replicated on his own body; although subtle enough that he isn’t sure even the lads has ever noticed, kept just for the two of them.

_ His _ .

***  
  
  
 _ **End.**_

**Author's Note:**

> THAT'S IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE WHO'S READ THIS - I don't think you guys know just how much it means to me that you have all read and enjoyed something I've written. It's stupid how teary and nervous I'm getting thinking how this is finally over; that those are the last words from this verse. It's been fun, it's been great, and I hope to keep writing for you all for a bit longer xxx


End file.
